Page 64 of The Redemption of Alex Cade
The young diver made his way back to his friends, barely aware he’d been given the brush off. I met Alex’s eye, and he gave me a quick wink before he served the next in line.
I turned back to my own customer, smiling as I served up another perfect espresso martini. No, I had nothing to worry about.
“One of the customers said we should put up some Christmas decorations.”
I looked up at Alex. Behind his sunglasses I couldn’t see his expression, but the flat tone of his voice told me everything I needed.
“Maybe they’re right,” I said slowly. “Most of the people who come here are Brits, Aussies and Americans, so it’s a tradition this time of year. And I like a bit of the old tinsel.”
I put my e-reader down and hopped up from where I’d been sitting on the side of the pool, legs dangling in the warmwater. “Just a few, nothing too much.” I straddled Alex, who was sprawled out on a sun lounger. “No need for inflatable Santas and life sized reindeer.” I drifted my finger down his chest, over his stomach, all the way to his belly button, before I shuffled down and snuggled into him. Alex’s arms coiled around me and I sighed. I closed my eyes as he stroked his fingers through my hair.
“I don’t want the place looking like a bloody grotto.”
I pressed my face into Alex’s chest, muffling my voice, not wanting him to hear the wobble. “I’ll sort it.”
Only a few words, a begrudging agreement, Alex’s concession was a milestone.
Three years since we left London. Three years since Kelvin had died.
We were approaching our third Christmas in paradise. Our first one, he’d downed half a bottle of whisky, and cried. The second, he’d sat alone on the beach all night, only coming back to me when the sun had risen.
I pushed myself up to sitting, and lifted the sunglasses off of Alex’s face.
“He’d want you to be happy. He loved you.” And I believed that, even though Kelvin’s love hadn’t been a kind I recognised. It had been warped, obsessive and dangerous. Yet, whatever my experience of Kelvin had been, he’d loved Alex in his own way. We both knew it.
Climbing to my feet, I held out my hand. Alex took it, holding tight as he got up off the sun lounger and letting me lead him to the bedroom, where I would show him a different kind of love.
ALEX
Kit stood at the shoreline, his silhouette softened by the fading light. He was motionless, watching the horizon as if waiting for something out there to speak to him. I lingered in the bar’s doorway a moment longer, my shoulder pressed against the weathered wood frame. The air was thick with salt, heavy and warm, mingling with the faint tang of citrus from the limes we’d sliced for drinks earlier. Behind me, the bar was silent, its tables wiped clean, chairs neatly stacked.
Once a week, we closed early. Our employees appreciated it, and so did we. Kit and I didn’t need to work. We could have lived a life of indulgent, lazy luxury for the rest of our lives. But that wasn’t what we wanted. We enjoyed taking an active part in the life of the beachside community on the small island we now called home.
I kicked off my battered deck shoes and stepped out onto the sand, warm grains sinking beneath my feet, shifting with each step. The ocean breeze tugged at the open collar of my shirt, the fabric loose and worn. Kit had teased me about it once, said I’d finally embraced my ‘inner beach bum.’ I’d grumbled something back at him, but the truth was I liked the way simplicity had crept into my life. The days of bespoke Saville Row tailoring were long gone. I still had a couple of suits. Somewhere.
Above, the sky stretched wide and endless, in shades of orange and lilac. It took my breath away, and I hoped it always would. Three years, yet my awe at the place hadn’t faded. The beauty, the peace of it, still struck me like something new.
Kit’s hair had grown longer. It was slightly shaggy, hisnatural blond now even blonder from days spent in the sun, or the sea, taking diving groups out to visit the many wrecks lying beneath the waves. I shivered. He’d taught me to dive, soon after we’d arrived on the island, but I’d never taken to it. I preferred to feel the ground beneath my feet. He’d given me a lopsided smile of understanding, but said nothing, when I hung up my diving gear for good.
I reached him just as the water rolled in, foaming gently around our bare feet. Slipping my arm around him, we stood there quietly, watching the waves advance and retreat. In the distance, fishing boats dotted the horizon, their lanterns flickering like distant stars. The world felt vast and open, and yet here, standing beside Kit, it was contained in something that was small, manageable, and comforting.
“Sarai said the Canadian couple left another big tip,” I said, breaking the silence.
Kit laughed. “They must think we’re destitute.”
“Well, you do dress like it sometimes,” I teased, tugging lightly at the frayed hem of his shirt sleeve.
He huffed. “Says the man who refused to buy new clothes for nearly a year.”
“I didn’t need any more clothes, and I like what I have.”
Kit’s expression softened, eyes tracing my face briefly before turning back to the sea. “Me too.”
The silence returned, broken only by the gentle hiss of the waves. Kit leant into me, and I tightened my hold.
“You know what tomorrow is?” he asked.
I nodded. Of course I did. A date I would never forget, a date that would always be carved into my soul.
